JASON
Jason pulled the cabin door shut behind Laurie. Several days of heavy rain had kept her cooped up in the cabin, and he was eager to see her handle their affairs in the community. Not that he was complaining. Late nights of staying up to watch over Seattle Square followed by back-breaking work in the weather were taking their toll. Nightly, he expressed his gratitude to Laurie for the quick naps he caught by the fire while she quietly mended his clothes beside him.
Laurie lifted her eyes to smile at him now. She looked pretty in a simple blue blouse and faded tartan skirt, the same pattern as the tartan sash her brother had put on her at their wedding. Jason hadn't asked her, but he recognized the reverence with which she had handled it. A family heirloom, he guessed. Probably her mother's, or a grandmother's.
Her hair was curled at the ends and tied back in a green ribbon that matched the green in her tartan's weave, and she clung to a yellow slicker that hung over her arm. He glanced at the leftover raindrops dripping from the porch roof and slowly lifted one side of his mouth into a half-smile, remembering the words she used to describe her wardrobe choice for the day. Practical. He finished buttoning the top two buttons of his yellow slicker and sucked in a dramatic intake of air. "Smell those pines," he said when her eyebrows arched.
Her nose wrinkled in distaste. "You smell pine trees?" she asked, a genuine curiosity warming her voice.
"Don't you?" he said.
There was a shy pause. "No," she said carefully. "But I understand it's a matter of acclimation. Perhaps... no, I'm sure I won't notice it before long." She finished with an air of resigned confidence, as though she were convincing herself.
She stepped off the porch and slid in the mud. Jason lunged forward and grabbed her arm to steady her. Once Jason was sure she would remain upright, he transferred his slicker's hat to his other hand before guiding her onto the higher points of the road. They were passing the totem pole before he asked, "Notice what?"
She looked beyond him to watch several men and women sliding in the mud, some attempting futilely to stay out of the deceptively shallow puddles. Jason followed her gaze just in time to see a wagon slog past a cluster of women. A wheel slid into a rut and splattered their clothes with what looked like more than innocent wet dirt. The women screamed and wailed, followed by deeper shouts and angry accusations from several nearby men.
Jason glanced down at Laurie and noticed she had opened the slicker and was thrusting her hands through the sleeves. He helped her button it in silence with his lips pressed together to suppress a laugh. Now her more practical slicker covered her practical dress.
"The mud?" he asked.
Laurie bit her lip, her eyes lifting to meet his, and there he saw all the sadness and uncertainty he constantly lived with too. "Tell me, Jason, what does Seattle do about their sewage?" his wife asked, her sweet voice heavy. "This can't be normal?"
Jason leaned his head back, closed his eyes tight, and cursed the town council's bumbling decisions. He and Aaron were overdue for that talk again. He opened his eyes and tried to sound encouraging. "You're right. It's a problem that the town council is working on. In the spring when the rains are nonstop, the tide comes in, and sometimes... well, trust me, it's something that weighs heavily on everyone's minds. Seattle is a dream that's still ironing out its rough edges. In the meantime..." he said with a pause, looping her arm around his. "Allow me to show you a swift and safe passage to Ben's."
"And the aroma?" asked Laurie. He was happy to hear the faint teasing in her voice, though her expression remained earnest.
"Well, I suppose it could be offensive to a well-bred woman like you." He inwardly cringed at the bite in his voice when she glanced at him. Neither of them was ready to deal with the darker elements of the other's temperament. The awkward shyness and long lulls in their conversations since the reception proved that. Still, they were talking more often, and that was progress enough. He picked her up and swung her over a slick-looking spot.
On a whim, he attempted to smooth the uneasiness over by moving close to her ear when he set her down. "We could pick out the woodsy scent of the pines if we walked a bit, or relish the perfume of the sea air closer to the Sound."
"Do you always talk so lavishly? I've never met a man who talks like you."
Jason cocked his head to the side as if he were pulling his collar with an imaginary finger. "I've been accused of being silver-tongued a time or two," he admitted, tugging her along the road. He barely caught it, but she rolled her eyes. So she was human after all! Part of him wanted to laugh, it seemed so out of character, and another part of him wanted to beg her to do it again. Instead, he kept his face neutral while they walked.
"Great," she murmured as she glared at the sky as a brief sprinkling of rain dropped on her nose. "I married a peddler."
"A peddler of dreams," he consented with a smile. Another smattering of rain fell over them, harder than the last. Jason threw his hat on his head and quickened his pace, Laurie having to trot to keep up.
Light rain dropped in steady sheets just as he lifted her to the mercantile doorstep. When he didn't join her, she blinked, her brow furrowed. "Aren't you coming inside?"
"I'll be back in a few minutes. I have to talk to Aaron."
He turned to leave when he heard her say his name. He peered over his shoulder to see her wringing her hands.
"I'm sorry," said Laurie. "I shouldn't have mentioned it. The smell. I guess I have trouble seeing the good in things. Sometimes, I mean. I shouldn't have taken that out on you."
His smile was sympathetic. "Don't waste another minute on it," he said to her with a low, intimate voice. "Go inside, now. It's chilly."
The door opened, with Biddie and Hannah standing just inside the doorway. Hannah's eyes lit up, and she smiled prettily at Jason. "Dropping the wife off today?"
Jason nodded, pleased they were finally talking. In an effort toward diplomacy, he asked, "I don't suppose you could show Laurie around today?"
Laurie stepped hesitantly into the store and cast him a look that reminded him of a steer being led to the slaughterhouse. Hannah beamed at him. "Don't worry, we'll take excellent care of her."
"Oh yes, we will! Why we'll—oh!" Biddie said when Hannah shut the door ending the conversation with Jason.
Jason paused and watched the girls usher Laurie to the front of the store. Hannah picked up one of Clancey's imports from San Francisco: an expensive perfume, by the looks of it. Laurie had on her mask - her perfect mask of anxious politeness.
He walked into the weather, hoping she would get used to her new home and the people in it. Seattle wasn't San Francisco or Philadelphia or any of those other fancy places she had lived. It was a young town... a man's town! Women had complained about the sewage problem before, but what was there to do about it?
The rain increased, and Jason tramped through the puddles. Holding his yellow slicker closer to himself, he rounded the corner, hoping maybe Aaron would have thought of a solution by now. Heaven help him, he could use some solutions, and if God could give him an inkling on how to handle this stranger he was married to, all the better. For better or for worse. That was what the marriage ceremony required. Well, if this was the worse, he'd take it.
Jason arrived at the sawmill and yanked the door open. Aaron looked up at Jason from a mountain of paperwork on his desk and grimaced. "That kind of day, is it?"
Jason gestured to himself as he talked. "Aaron, when I walk into a room and you can tell it's that kind of day, I know it's time for a beer. Come have one with me."
After a quick appraisal of Jason's expression, Aaron grabbed his black raincoat and hat to throw over his bright blue suit. As they began their walk he asked, "What's wrong?"
"Sewage," said Jason with an air of distaste. "It's stinking up my marriage."
Aaron abruptly paused, making Jason stop his exuberant gait. With a scoff and his eyes wide, Jason threw his hands out on either side of him and declared, "She says Seattle stinks!"
A hint of a smile flashed across Aaron's face before it broke into a full, doubled over laugh. It was Jason's turn to roll his eyes to the sky, waiting for his friend to control himself. When that didn't seem to be coming anytime soon, Jason allowed his voice an edge.
"Come on, Aaron. You know how it is."
Aaron gathered himself together enough to gesture for Jason to give him a minute and took a deep breath. He straightened himself up and looked at Jason and burst into another chuckle.
"Aaron!"
"All right, all right. She—did she really say that?" His mouth twitched, but his brown eyes remained bright.
They had resumed their gait toward the saloon again, the rain still coming in sporadic spurts. Jason pressed his lips together and studied the grey sky for a moment before answering. "Oh, I don't know... no. Not in so many words. But," he added when Aaron opened his mouth to say something, "the meaning was true."
"Hmm. Well, you know, that's going to take an awful lot of money. More than the town has to spend. Your idea of using hollowed-out logs still intrigues me, but we might as well face facts. We'll probably have to raise the town someday."
"I know that. But I have to do something. Seattle is my home. Our home and I've done just as much as anyone to build it up to what it is. If it's not good enough, then..."
"Yeah, I know. She hit you where it hurts, didn't she?" They approached the doors of the saloon and Jason paused for Aaron to open one up for him.
"If the woman you were going to spend the rest of your life with told you she couldn't smell the sawdust for the muck in the road, wouldn't you feel compelled to do something about it?"
Aaron glanced at the dormitory where most of the remaining Seattle brides were peeping out from the windows, hiding from the weather. "All right, Jason. Let's go get you a drink and I'll round up Ben and Keith. See what we can come up with. I'll ask Matthew to come, but you know how unlikely it is that he'll show up."
"Only need a majority. Thank you, Aaron."
"Don't thank me yet," said Aaron as Jason followed him to the bar. "Until someone invents a way to drain a privy, we're stuck with fighting it regularly. Anything we do won't help matters much, since the tide washes them out like it does. So it'll be costly, and pretty much ineffective."
"Wha—" Jason began when Lottie flounced out of the backroom and resumed her favorite spot behind the bar.
"It's a little early for you two," she said, batting her oversized eyelashes at them and fluffing her short blonde hair. "What'll it be?"
Jason motioned to Aaron pointedly and said, "Beer for him. Whiskey for me."
Aaron started chuckling again as Jason motioned for her to leave the bottle. "Can't have a council meeting without the council. I'll be back."
Jason downed the first shot and poured another. "I'll be here. Planning Seattle's and my financial funerals, courtesy of my wife."
"Jason!"
He glanced at Lottie when she hissed his name and lifted his drink to his lips when he noticed Aaron's horrified look at the back door. He brought the glass down and partially turned to see Laurie standing in the doorway with Jeremy, Candy, and Biddie. Laurie was staring straight at him, and it wasn't hard to see she was angry. Not the kind of angry he saw when her brother forced her down the aisle. This was the smoldering, more frightening kind of angry that women wore when they felt unrighteously judged.
"Laurie—" he began, but she shook her head.
He watched a practiced smile cover the anger until all that lingered in her eyes was the ache of disappointment, and then she smoothed over that emotion too. She slowly walked to Jason, determination in every step, and putting her hand on his arm said, "I was talking to the woman at the general store, ah... Emily?" she asked, glancing back at the threesome she had left in the doorway. They nodded as if connected. She gave him the sweetest smile, and he felt his stomach plunge. Heaven help him, he was in trouble.
"Emily. She gave me a recipe I wanted to try, but I needed some brandy and Mr. Perkins ran out a few days ago. Jeremy said there wasn't any at the cabin, so I thought I'd check with Miss Hatfield, um, Lottie?"
She said it to him, but it was as if she had permitted the room to spring to life. Lottie rushed into the back room and Aaron made a mumbled excuse and took a swift exit. The rest of the room erupted in a fit of earnest nothingness, but Jason stood as still as Laurie, each studying the other out.
"Why are you drinking so early in the morning?" she quietly asked. She picked at the sleeve of her slicker after her eyes danced around the room. "I knew you were a heavy drinker, most men are, but I didn't think I had married a lush."
"Business affairs. Sometimes I think better this way." He had tried to sound bored, but she blanched at the petulant tone of his words all the same. Inwardly he rolled his eyes at himself and kicked the edge of the bar with his boot as he stood straight. He took off his hat to reveal damp curls at the nape of his neck and quickly unfastened the buttons on his slicker. He shrugged it off and slapped it on top of the bar.
"No, you don't," she said, her voice low and soft.
"No, I don't," he agreed, putting his hands on his hips. "But sometimes the problem is... well, I need to forget I'm not as big as I would pretend to be."
Her eyes widened a little, and Laurie asked in a low voice, "How am I bringing about anyone's financial burdens?"
Jason looked around and saw several people watching through the corner of their eyes, his brother no exception. He'd have to get Jeremy to help with gossip control. "Oh, I was just being dramatic. Everyone knows I sometimes make a big fuss over nothing." His chuckle sounded dry.
"Here's the brandy," Lottie said, all smiles and worried eyes. "Why don't you two run along before the rain hits again?"
"Thank you, Miss H—Lottie," Laurie answered her without breaking eye contact with Jason, "but my husband has an important business meeting."
"Yes, I know," Lottie answered her. Laurie's eyes flitted to the older saloon owner. "Aaron's getting the rest of the town council in here to have a meeting. They don't do that unless it's something serious."
"It is serious," Jason said.
Laurie glanced back at him. "Serious enough for the town council?"
"Well, it's not anything I'd like to talk to a lady about," Jason told her.
"But Lottie knows?"
Jason flinched and looked apologetically at Lottie.
"It's okay, Jason, it's not like you told me about it. That's one perk of being a saloon owner," Lottie said to Laurie, her voice reassuring. "The men talk and I listen. Sometimes you pick things up."
Laurie's demeanor softened a little, and Jason found himself more annoyed than ever. It shouldn't have mattered that Lottie knew, let alone how. He looked down at his hands as he spoke. "As I was saying, normally I prefer to not talk to a woman about this sort of thing, but since you're my wife, I'll tell you." He set his piercing gaze on her. "We're going to have to look at Seattle's, ah, waste problem. A lady confided in me today that Seattle's aroma isn't in keeping with the vision we have of our little town, so I'm bringing it to the attention of the town council."
He watched the color drain from Laurie's face. "That explains Seattle's demise. What about your funeral?"
She said it quietly. So quietly, he was sure no one else heard her, even though Lottie was still listening. His eyes flickered to his old friend, and she took the cue, sauntering off to help someone who wasn't ready to refill a glass. He stepped closer to her and said, "Look, I know you're not accustomed to this kind of life. I promise I will try my best to make you as comfortable as possible."
There was a pause.
"But?"
Jason touched a stray curl. Someday he would have to ask her to keep her hair down on. "But I can't compete with your past. Seattle isn't San Francisco, or Philadelphia, or any other places you're from. I can't remember where your brother said..."
"Louisiana," said Laurie sharply. Her eyes filled with pools of tears, making her eyes bright. She trembled with emotion but didn't seem angry. Maybe pain, or sadness, but not anger. "I lived on a plantation in Louisiana, and I lived in Philadelphia at St. Vincent's Finishing School for Girls. Before those places, I lived in London. Cheapside, actually, and before that, I grew up in a small fishing village called Portree. It's in Scotland. Portree, Jason. On the Isle of Skye. Do you know anything about Scotland, or are you an American with a heritage he knows nothing about?"
He blinked at the passion in her voice. "Only what my parents told me. Mostly Kilmaren, where my father was from. I visited with them once, but that was a long time ago."
"That's what I thought," she said with a note of disdain. "I was born during a potato famine. All my growing-up years in Scotland people were starving. Many of their houses still have dirt floors. Houses they rented, not owned, and most of the women looked old before they're thirty. That's only a few years older than I am. Families worked together to fish for enough food, and we were lucky. So lucky! Many lost their homes to evictions. I watched them go through our town to leave for a better life in America, Canada... other places. So many left their homes and their heritage behind. We learned to be grateful for what we could get."
"That doesn't jive with boarding school and fancy clothes."
"No, it doesn't. But when you've angered your father enough that he marries a rich widow, things change. And not necessarily for the better." Jason continued to hold her gaze, though he didn't dare touch her. Her words were fast and clipped. "As for my fancy dresses, all you had to do is ask. I'm not that kind of person. I'm not—" She broke eye contact and let her hands fall, slapping the sides of her slicker while she caught her breath.
She wiped her emotions away with a quick swipe of her hand. "It doesn't matter, does it? Believe what you want." She took the bottle of brandy from the bar and glanced at him, the pools in her eyes releasing her tears. "Supper will be ready at five." She walked out of the saloon, not saying goodbye to Jeremy or the girls.
Jason remembered with a start the state of Seattle's roads. He dashed to the doors to peer after her, hoping she hadn't fallen yet, but apparently living in a fishing village had taught her a thing or two. She navigated her way through the precarious streets with concentrated ease, her head down but shoulders back. He watched her for a moment and felt someone at his side.
"You should go after her."
Jason shook his head. "I don't think so, Lottie. There are occasions when a woman needs time."
"Time for what?" she asked. "To plot your death?"
He heard Candy and Biddie giggle. He switched his gaze from his wife's retreating form to his brother and friends. They were all watching him closely, some with concern, some with mirth. A devilish grin lit up his face. "Maybe. But I think she'll serve me the best whatever it is she has planned for that brandy."
"Yes," said Lottie. "But I wouldn't be surprised if she put a little arsenic in it. I know I would." He watched her flounce away from him, twirling her dark green skirt in the air with a touch of drama.
"Jason," Biddie asked quietly from beside him. "Why did you accuse Laurie of being expensive?"
"Biddie," said Candy, "It's their own private business."
"Yes, I know. Except, it would be one thing if she had been extravagant, but she was very careful at Ben's. She only bought what was necessary and even then, only what Jeremy insisted you didn't have."
Candy nodded. "She didn't even look around the store, Jason. She was more interested in talking to us and Emily."
"Hannah said it was because everything was beneath her because, well, you know how she is, but Candy and I could tell Laurie was just being a responsible wife. I wish Laurie was a little more outgoing, you know, so we could get to know her better? But I think once she has been here—"
"Biddie, Biddie. I get the picture," said Jason, leaning on the door frame. He looked pointedly at Jeremy.
"It's like she said, Jason. The only reason she came over here was because Ben hadn't restocked. I asked her if she wanted me to come for her, but she said she wanted to get acclimated as soon as possible. Whatever that meant."
Jason gazed at the bend in the trail where Laurie had already vanished behind trees and bushes before answering.
"It means she's trying."
LAURIE
Laurie swatted at a stray strand of hair with exasperation and glanced at the clock.
Typical. He was late.
She went back to the stove to stir the brandy sauce she had made for the pork chops. They had been in the cold storage of Mr. Perkins' general store, and he had given her a good price. The brandy had been a splurge, but still. To call her a spendthrift! Laurie stabbed the spoon at the sauce and a tear fell down her cheek. She couldn't understand where Jason got the idea. Just because of her clothes?! She wasn't the one constantly bringing presents home! She hadn't even asked for anything! She had thought him generous, kind... and thoughtful. It was such a disappointment to find out he thought he had to compete with San Francisco.
She tapped the wooden spoon against the side of her pan and with another glance at the clock, threw herself into Jason's chair to rest her neck. Laurie closed her eyes and began counting to soothe herself. Footsteps fell on the porch and she listened to the door open and close. She knew it was Jason. How quickly she had figured out his footsteps! But now he was standing still. She waited, wondering what he was doing.
Finally, she heard him resume walking across the floor to stand directly behind her. She knew she should get up and greet her husband. Sister Agnes would have shaken her so hard her brain would have rattled for being disrespectful, but she couldn't make herself do it. She kept her eyes closed for the verbal beheading she had coming, if not worse. He scraped the chair when he turned it around with her in it and sighed.
"Laurie, look at me." His voice was tired. She wanted to peek at him through one eye, but thinking that would be childish, she opened both of them. He was standing there, water dripping from his slicker onto the floor. He knelt on one knee in front of her, watching her with a frown.
"You were right. I know very little about your past, and I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions. I'm sorry."
She felt herself go rigid. "You're not going to...? Jason, I yelled at you in the saloon."
"I wouldn't call that yelling, but whatever it was, I deserved it."
"But..."
"But what?"
Laurie wanted to fidget, but he had put his hand on her knee, his eyes soft and pleading. "I've never known a man who didn't punish a woman for embarrassing him," she whispered.
"You didn't embarrass me, Laurie, I embarrassed myself. And if even if you had, well, we might talk about it. But I'll never hurt you. At least, not on purpose." Her eyes couldn't hold his anymore and they dropped to the floor. "Like I hurt you today. I'm sorry. I guess I was feeling a little... uh, touchy."
There was a quiet pause before she spoke, choosing her words carefully. "After the war, there wasn't much to eat, let alone wear. It had only been over for a few months when our home caught fire. There wasn't much left when it burned out. I was lucky to get out at all." She brought her eyes up to meet his. Jason's brow was furrowed, his mouth drawn in a solemn line.
"Carpetbaggers bought the land for pennies on the dollar, and I was lucky enough to get that. I didn't have many people to take care of at that point, but I felt responsible for the four of us. Our futures depended on me. Myself, a man and a woman that hadn't left me when all the other slaves did, and... um, a girl whose care I had been charged with. I only had enough money to book passage for three to San Francisco." The clock chimed on the mantel, causing her to glance at it. Half-passed five. "I wouldn't have left Big Sam, I'm sure we could have found a way, maybe find passage on another boat or one of us could have worked for a ticket? I don't know. We never talked about it, because the morning after I found out, he wasn't there. He just left us."
Laurie's voice broke, and she bent her body over to sob a little. Jason ran his hand over her hair and murmured, "You don't have to tell me."
"Yes, yes, I do. You need to know... because I don't want you to think... Oh! I'm so tired of crying!" She stood abruptly and walked to the fireplace mantel. She stared at the clock with contempt. They needed to have supper before it was ruined.
"When we boarded the ship, the captain was a Yankee sympathizer. He knew we belonged to the part of the South being driven out and relished putting a Southern woman and her... companions in her place: the lower cabins with leftover food that was foul most of the time. We got sick on the voyage, but no one cared."
She took a shuddering breath. "When we arrived in San Francisco my companions were still too sick to climb off the boat themselves, and the captain threatened to throw them overboard. I had to leave them to find a childhood friend, the only person I dared to hope would help us. When I got to her, she took care of everything. She had someone take Doreen and Jenny to safety and made sure they were well-cared for. I remember little else during that time. I was weak myself with fever."
Jason stood, his expression unreadable.
"Experiences like that does things to a person," she whispered. "I had experienced hate before. I'm used to people not liking me. But poverty, like that... to have my identity stripped from me, and lumped with people I lived with but was never accepted by? I just—I never want to feel like that again." She met his eyes with a little lift to her shoulder. "So yes, my clothes are important to me. I suppose it sounds silly, but as long as they're nice, I know I can afford what I need."
"How did you get out of the situation you were in?" he asked, taking a step toward her.
"My friend found me a job at an opera house and I worked hard." She scoffed. "You might say I sang so I could eat. I saved my money and invested it..." Laurie paused. She wasn't ready to tell him about the little nest egg she had hidden away. She knew it was time, but something deep within her still held her back. "I climbed to an acceptable social status within two years. Most people aren't that lucky."
"No, they're not." He glanced at the stove, bringing her awareness back to the present. Supper was going to burn.
"Anyway," she said hastily, walking over to stir the sauce. It was a little overcooked, but not terribly. "I don't like to talk about it. But I thought you should know."
Jason had followed her and said with a husky voice by her ear, "Thank you for telling me." He grabbed the breadbasket over her shoulder and set it on the table. "Smells good," he said, unbuttoning his slicker. "Is it ready?"
"Yes," she said, moving the food from the stove to the table.
"Well, why don't you sit, and I'll serve you for a change, hmm?"
"Your brothers?"
He shook his head and walked to the pegs on the wall to hang up his slicker and hat. Her eyes fell to the floor. She would have to mop later. "They're eating at Candy's tonight. I'm sorry, that wasn't the plan, but I wanted to be alone. Don't you think we need that? Time alone?"
"Yes," she breathed, her eyes still not quite their normal size. She took the seat he offered her and sat in silence, watching him serve her plate. He poured her a cup of coffee and did the same for himself, then offered his hand as he sat beside her. She took it as if in a dream.
"I'll say grace." He searched her face and chuckled. "You seem a bit dazed."
"I am."
Jason uttered a quick prayer over the meal. Pork chops with a brandied peach sauce made from preserves, boiled potatoes, and cooked carrots with large slabs of buttered bread quickly disappeared from Jason's plate. Laurie nibbled at her meal but scarcely tasted anything. They ate quietly, the crackling of the fire giving a cozy feeling to the room despite their lack of communication at the dinner table.
"It's good," he said, putting his cup down. "I haven't had chops like that before."
She turned a piece of meat over with her fork. "Neither have I."
Silence enveloped the cabin again, and after a few moments, Jason cleared his throat. "So. I've been thinking about you all afternoon and I realized something. You've mentioned nuns before. You're Catholic?"
She paused, her fork in midair. "Not anymore," she said with a tremor in her voice.
He leaned forward on the table, sliding his plate back to make room for his arms to rest. "It's okay if you are. I don't mind. It would be nice if we both believed in the same religion, and there's no church here for Catholics, but I understand if you want to keep your faith."
She put her fork down onto the plate and twisted her napkin before dabbing it at the edges of her mouth. "I'm not Catholic anymore. Sherman had me baptized a Methodist when he married me. He insisted, but I had expected it. It wasn't difficult. I mean, I don't think I'm suited to be a Catholic, even though I still recite the prayers when I think of them," she finished, with a limp wave in the air as she thought of her rosary beads abandoned in one of the vanity drawers. Again. With a deep breath, she stared straight into his eyes. "Besides, one roof, one religion. I believe things are more congenial when a couple goes to church together."
"Did the nuns teach you that?"
"No. Life did."
"I see." He studied her while taking a sip of coffee. "Well then, I should start taking you to church with me on Sunday."
Laurie felt her stomach do a flip-flop. Sister Agnes's voice started screaming in her mind about what would happen to her heathen self. Laurie bit her inner cheek. She wouldn't listen to her anymore. If she was a sinner for not being Catholic, the nuns shouldn't have arranged the marriage with Richard to Sherman. Besides, she wasn't born a Catholic. Her parents were Protestant. Catholicism had been the widow's religion, and as far as she knew, her father had never converted.
Noticing Jason was looking at her expectantly, Laurie licked her lips. "I'll be ready," she told him and stood to take her plate to the scrap pail for the neighbor's chickens.
"You hardly touched your dinner," Jason said, his mouth turning down.
"I'm not that hungry tonight." She dumped the scraps into the pail and looked up to see Jason watching her. "Did you want more?" she asked. "There's plenty—"
"Thank you, no," Jason said, pulling himself up from the table. "I'll do the dishes tonight. You look tired."
Her eyes went wide, and her fingers flew to her face. "I do?" She bolted for the shaving mirror.
"No! No, I mean, I only meant... Oh, Laurie. By the time we finally figure out how to talk to each other, I may be an old man." The sadness in his voice put a lump in her throat. She left the shaving area to take his plate from him, but he shook his head. "I'll finish up here. You go on to bed."
Her eyes widened. "But..." she protested, the words dying in her throat when she saw despair on Jason's features. She backed away from him and threw open the door to her room, accidentally banging it shut. Laurie flinched and tried to imagine what Jason must think of her. She listened to the clinking of the dishes, his kindness causing her to writhe inside, wondering if she should go back to help. She decided no. He was her husband, and a good wife obeyed.
Laurie felt like crying again. She had thought things were going well, but after today she felt like she was a complete failure. She wished she hadn't told Jason about her past. She felt vulnerable, as though her life were a train derailed by Richard, left broken and exposed, unable to progress on her journey. And for all of that, she still knew so little about Jason.
With shaking fingers she exchanged her day clothes for her nightgown after she washed up in the basin Jason had brought her during her second week in Seattle. She completed her toilette by braiding her hair with frequent glances at the door.
With resignation, she nestled under the covers and lay flat on her back listening to Jason. He finished the dishes and the heavy clumps of his feet moved to the edge of the cabin. The silence that followed suggested that he had gotten a book and was sitting in his chair, reading as he usually did after supper, or perhaps dozing. She stayed there, memorizing the groves in the wood above her in the dim lamplight. She heard the door open and Joshua and Jeremy's voices mingled with Jason's in low conversation. There were more shuffling feet, and finally, Jason's footsteps headed toward her door.
She closed her eyes and hoped she didn't look too desperate. The door opened and Jason came into the room. She heard him pause, then blow the lamp out. She listened to him leave, the door clicking when he shut it behind him. She opened her eyes again and in moments heard Jason's bed creak. He was leaving her to sleep alone tonight.
Again.
Hot tears slid down Laurie's face. She didn't know how to fix things. She slipped out of bed to kneel and prayed for morning to come soon.